


Synopsis: Black Tower

by dairesfanficrefuge_archivist



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Meta, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-31
Updated: 2003-12-31
Packaged: 2018-12-18 06:51:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11868927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist/pseuds/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist
Summary: Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived atDaire's Fanfic Refuge. Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDaire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile.





	Synopsis: Black Tower

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Daire's Fanfic Refuge](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Daire%27s_Fanfic_Refuge). Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Daire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/dairesfanficrefuge/profile).

Black Tower

**BLACK TOWER**

What have they done to the Highlander???? Pity poor, poor Dunkie!!! 

All he wanted was a taste of romance after living a monk's life for well over a year. He ends up trapped in a deadly game, doubly victimized by a lousy script. To quote 'Apocalypse Now,' Oh, the horror! The horror...! 

The Highlander acts uncharacteristically blasé throughout this entire tortuous episode. Despite being folded, spindled, mutilated-bloodied and bludgeoned- he keeps quipping like a Bruce Willis wannabe. He only becomes seriously concerned when his date-the lady he is trying to rescue from Marek-shoots him. This finally gets his attention as he realizes that, when the action is over, he _still_ isn't gonna get any! 

So much for his anticipated romantic interlude. 

He takes his first head after killing Richie. A spectacular non-event. 

Turning MacLeod into MacGuyver doesn't fly either. 

In the premise, such as it is, Dice-the computer nerd that works the keyboard-assumes the action in this mess is virtual. However, Devon Marek, the Immortal who designed the game, knows it is very, _very_ real. 

People in this one die in various ways. Let me see.... Stabbing, and shooting of course-electrocution, being blown to smithereens, defenestration (look that one up), broken neck, cracked skull-I'm not sure about the guy who gets stabbed in the face with a broken broomstick-and, of course-decapitation. 

For yours truly, the only saving grace (another episode, sorry) was the flashback encounter between MacLeod and the egotistic Marek. 

**_New characters:_**

**MARGO** \- A dark-haired beauty who lures MacLeod into a date with tickets to the opera. She plays the damsel in distress perfectly. Not! 

**DEVON MAREK** \- MacLeod witnesses this spoiled duke's son become immortal in 1634. He's carried a grudge against Mac, blaming him for his lost inheritance. He now owns Keram (Marek spelled backwards) Toys. 

**DICE** \- computer whiz extraordinaire, thinks he is manipulating a live-action simulation of a virtual reality game. 

**ABEL MONTOYA, RUBEN MONTOYA, WILLIAM ROBERT SHEMP, BENOIT** \- four top bounty hunters, hired by Marek to hunt down MacLeod...for a million dollar prize. 

* * *

The Barge   
3 AM, Saturday Morning 

A year has gone by-   
And a little bit more-   
Since our hero, MacLeod-   
Been able to score.   
Alex and Kyra-   
Passed on romance,   
But with lovely Margo-   
He stands a good chance. 

In his spotless white shirt,   
(He was wearing a tux)   
Who couldn't resist-   
This beefcake, deluxe?   
Her black silken gown-   
Fits like a glove.   
Soft music, lit candles-   
A prelude to love. 

She doesn't like opera,   
She fibbed to 'impress him,'   
Seductively...she-   
Begins to undress him,   
'Practice makes perfect.'   
He glibly recites,   
'You get the candles,   
I'll get the lights.' 

As Mac does his part-   
There's a knock at the door.   
She's closer; 'I'll get it,'   
He's engrossed in his chore.   
The night ahead promises-   
Passion and bliss.   
Whoever's out there-   
He will promptly dismiss. 

'That's funny,' she says-   
'No one is there.'   
MacLeod merely shrugs,   
Hormones in full flare.   
Then....'DUNCAN!' she screams,   
He looks up-she's vanished!   
He sprints to the door-   
All tender thoughts banished. 

While Margo contends-   
With big brutish guy.   
Another, (unfairly)-   
Cracks Mac in the eye!   
MacLeod goes down hard,   
Then bullets start flying!   
MacLeod dives for cover-   
It's no time for dying! 

They keep him pinned down-   
While they kidnap Margo.   
But he scrambles out-   
To witness their car go.   
A tinkling sound-   
Attracts his attention   
A calling card left-   
With an obvious intention. 

A toy music box-   
Inscribed on its back,   
'Made by Keram Toys,'   
Familiar to Mac?   
A knight on a horse-   
Twirls to the sound,   
MacLeod, in disgust-   
Hurls the toy to the ground! 

The Keram Enterprises Building 

The building looks dark,   
Like a shining black tower.   
Tinted windows, no doubt-   
Give a feeling of power-   
To the madman who runs-   
This vast enterprise.   
What's inside, is private-   
Not for curious eyes. 

Mac enters the lobby,   
Dice watches with glee.   
From his monitor sees-   
What fun this will be!   
The security cameras-   
Trace Mac's every move,   
As he pause, Dice thinks-   
This can only improve. 

Mac sensed the Buzz,   
That's why he lagged,   
This Immortal has Margo,   
Terrified, bound and gagged.   
There's a gun at her head,   
She's trembling with fear,   
'Devon Marek,' says Duncan-   
Recalling that year. 

Flashback, Scotland, 1634 

An unarmed man flees,   
In fear of his life,   
Marek's running him down-   
Brandishing sword _and_ knife.   
Through thickets and trees-   
Marek chases until-   
His prey trips and rolls-   
To the base of a hill. 

Marek climbs down-   
Still bent on pursuit.   
But, the fellow he's chasing-   
Is very astute.   
A large heavy branch-   
Makes a crude, potent weapon,   
And, Marek neglects-   
To watch where he's steppin.' 

Crack! Goes the branch,   
Marek loses his sword.   
In the ensuing fight-   
By his own knife, he's gored.   
The other man runs,   
(When stabbing a noble-   
You've a date with the hangman-   
Unless you are mobile). 

The sound of their struggle-   
Has, in due course-   
Attracted the Highlander-   
On his white horse.   
He rides to the side-   
Of the man needing aid,   
But an unpleasant tingle-   
Warns, 'Draw your blade!' 

On, the ground, Marek writhes-   
But, despite agony.   
He calls Mac a 'savage,'   
'Don't stare or touch me!'   
Mac observes that, ' A man-   
In your sad position-   
Should have better manners,   
If help, you are wishin.'' 

'I do not need manners,   
Devon Marek, I am!   
Duke of Willoughby's son!'   
(Bragging ad nauseum)   
'A surgeon I need!'   
His manner, imperious.   
Mac: 'Fine, I'll be off!'   
It's apparent, he's serious. 

'WAIT!' Marek yells.   
'You do not have permission!   
I do not wish it!'   
(Such a sweet disposition).   
'I _command_ you!' but Mac-   
Keeps walking away.   
Only when he hears, 'Please.'   
Will he deign to stay. 

One look at that wound-   
And the Highlander's sure-   
Marek soon will assume-   
Room temperature.   
'Best make your peace-   
With G-d, I'd advise.'   
Marek: 'I shall not die!'   
Last words, pre-demise. 

MacLeod notes indeed-   
This blowhard's a goner.   
But, Mac does his duty,   
Buries Marek with honor.   
As he sets the crude cross-   
The old Buzz comes back.   
Marek leaps from his grave-   
Spewing outrage at Mac! 

'Are you a _madman?_   
Crazed in the head?   
To bury a man-   
Who isn't yet dead?'   
'Look to your wound,'   
Mac says with annoyance.   
Marek's astonished,   
'Do you have clairvoyance?' 

'Connor, my teacher-   
Said I would sense-   
Who'll _be_ immortal,   
But it's less intense.'   
'What you sensed was _greatness!_ '   
(That's Marek's reality)   
Mac: 'You pompous ass!   
I sensed Immortality!' 

Present Day, Lobby of Keram Enterprises 

That same pompous ass-   
Reminds MacLeod, 'See?   
I told you back then-   
How great I would be.'   
Mac contemplates Marek-   
Like he's a huge zit.   
'You make _toys,_ Marek,   
Get over it!' 

'You always were wrong-   
MacLeod, about me.'   
His gun's still on Margo,   
Her fear's plain to see.   
'Then why hide behind-   
A woman?' Mac notes   
'Who's hiding? She's bait-   
For the hunt.' Marek gloats. 

MacLeod's introduced-   
To the other four players,   
Picked for their skills-   
As professional slayers.   
Monsieur Benoit-   
Who blackened Mac's eye,   
Heavy on brawn,   
But on brains? Short supply. 

The Brothers Montoya,   
'Butchers of Basque,'   
Love doing wet work-   
And similar tasks.   
Then Billy Bob Shemp,   
The American entry.   
His ancestors certainly-   
Never were gentry. 

The guns these toughs carry-   
Could easily stop-   
A charging bull elephant,   
Making him drop.   
They certainly could-   
Take out any man.   
'Here are the rules.'   
Marek lays out his plan. 

'Since when,' asks MacLeod-   
'Have YOU followed rules?'   
MacLeod knows, to Marek-   
Such people are fools.   
'The rules aren't for me.   
For you they were made.   
This is _my_ game,   
_I'll_ decide how it's played!' 

'Today-'Hide and Seek,'   
This gorgeous young creature,'   
(Meaning Margo), 'I'll hide-   
Then you must seek her.'   
'Cut the games, Marek,   
It's me that you want.   
I'm here.' But the toymaker-   
Stays nonchalant. 

'Oh, now...Where's the sport-   
In that?' Marek asks.   
In the warmth of his ego-   
He blissfully basks.   
'And meanwhile, my friends-   
Will be tracking _you_...'   
Then over a speaker-   
A new voice booms through. 

It's Dice saying, 'Boss-   
We're behind schedule now.'   
'This game's mine, Dice.   
I'll say when and how.'   
Dice sitting upstairs,   
With his screens all aglow,   
In charge of the action,   
(At least, he thinks so.) 

'You have sixty seconds,'   
Orders Marek, 'Start running.'   
Four rifles are cocked-   
Marek's not funning.   
He's counting down,   
'Fifty-seven, fifty-six'   
He's gone off with Margo,   
No time for tricks. 

MacLeod backs away,   
The four look elated,   
Upstairs Dice believes-   
This is all simulated.   
When the count reaches zero-   
Mac dives through a door,   
The gunfire surrounds him,   
Killers hoping to score. 

The Command Center 

Dice multi-tasking,   
Doing his part-   
Immersed in technology,   
State-of-the-art.   
Whizzing among-   
The keyboards and screens,   
Doesn't see any need-   
For live-action scenes. 

'Why not do it virtual?   
It's just for a game,   
Virtual is cleaner,   
The result is the same.'   
'Dice, push the buttons,   
Keep your concentration,   
No machine can compare-   
To a _real_ simulation.' 

The speakers spew sounds-   
Gunfire! A shout!   
Dice still confused,   
Tries to sort it all out.   
'So the guy gets a prize,   
If he gets out alive,   
But the flaw is, he's not-   
_Really_ running to survive.' 

Somewhere in the Building 

Tell that to poor Mac!   
Sure looks real to him!   
Can he outrace a bullet?   
His chances seem slim.   
Vaulting the railings,   
Pinned down in a stairwell,   
Four assassins, guns blazing-   
Doesn't look like he'll fare well. 

Mac breaks away!   
Down a hallway he speeds.   
On a wall, oh so handy-   
Is something he needs.   
A fire extinguisher-   
As a battering ram-   
Opens a door,   
Its spray helps him scram. 

The Command Center 

'Oh, man! That's _hot!_   
Dice exults in his revel.   
'Gotta be bonus points!   
A whole new skill level!   
I can't believe-   
That he got out!'   
Marek calmly, 'You fool!   
That's what this game's about!' 

'What kind of hunt-   
Would it be?' He asks slickly,   
'If it was over-   
So very quickly.'   
He's frightening Dice-   
With his lust for bloodletting-   
And this personal interest-   
Is extremely upsetting. 

Lower Level, Parking Garage 

The hunters spread out.   
'He's _got_ to be _here!_ '   
But despite thorough searching-   
Mac does not appear.   
Shemp is ticked off,   
Anger he must expel,   
So, he shoots up a car-   
With a fierce rebel yell. 

The others race off,   
Only Benoit's left waiting...   
Still searching, until-   
From an overhead grating,   
Mac jumps upon him,   
Puts him down with a crack!   
When the others hear noises-   
They hi-tail it back. 

Now Mac's exposed,   
Bull's eyed in their sights.   
As they open fire-   
He's caught dead to rights.   
Though hit in the shoulder-   
He's able to duck-   
Into a stairwell,   
So far, he's in luck. 

Lobby 

Back where he started,   
He hears Marek's voice,   
Booming over a speaker-   
Offering Mac a choice.   
The monitor displays-   
Tightly bound to a chair-   
With a guard at her door,   
His distressed lady fair. 

'If you reach her side,   
Before she is killed,   
Ten thousand bonus points-   
If you're that skilled.'   
The doors to the street-   
Now open to Mac,   
Marek's offer is this-   
'You can run, not look back.' 

'You know me better-   
Than that,' with a smile,   
He'll deal with Marek-   
In Highlander style.   
As he smashes that camera-   
So Marek can't see-   
His wound makes him move-   
A mite painfully. 

Command Center/Monitors 

'Oh man, that's way cool!'   
Dice yelps gleefully,   
'He'll try for the damsel,   
For points, or goes free!   
You're a real player!'   
Says an awestricken Dice,   
'I am THE player!'   
Boasts his boss, cold as ice. 

One camera still works,   
A considerate Devon-   
Calls out to Duncan-   
'She's on Level G7.'   
'Really?' says Mac,   
Smashing this camera, too.   
The less Marek sees,   
The more Mac can do. 

Mac sheds his coat,   
He's obviously hurt,   
There's a large bloody hole-   
In that beautiful shirt.   
He hides coat and sword,   
Sure he'll need them later-   
Then pushes the button-   
For Marek's elevator. 

Inside, he soon sees-   
More trouble's in store-   
Under Marek's direction-   
Dice programs the floor-   
Where the elevator stops-   
Also telling the thugs-   
So when the door opens-   
They'll pump Mac with slugs. 

The buttons don't work,   
Mac cannot change floors,   
'Today,' (Marek's voice),   
We will settle old scores.'   
Mac's peeved that another-   
Camera is spying,   
He rips it down, 'Marek-   
My patience you're trying.' 

'High-five!'approves Dice.   
'That's so realistic!   
Dice beams admiration,   
Marek's comeback's sadistic-   
' _Your_ characters have-   
No passion, but I-   
Want to see the stark fear-   
In their eyes when they die.' 

Dice is becoming-   
Very, very uneasy.   
This sick puppy Marek-   
Makes him feel queasy.   
Marek hates this 'MacLeod'-   
With such fervid zeal.   
After all...it's a _game_ \-   
MacLeod isn't _real._

The Elevator 

Unreal or not-   
Mac's trapped in this box,   
Surrounded by hunters-   
And, he's the doomed fox.   
Dice fingers the keyboard,   
The doors open wide,   
Gunners empty their clips-   
But there's no one inside! 

'Upstairs, he went _up!_ '   
And the cables still shake-   
From Duncan's departure-   
He made a fast break.   
Marek cues his hunters-   
'I hear you!' 'Me, too.'   
Dice: 'He's going for the bait!'   
Marek: 'They always do.' 

Floor Above Level G7 

Sillier and sillier-   
Mac 'happens' to find,   
A pipe, some thick wire,   
(That he had time to wind)-   
Around his right shoulder,   
Now a closet, he spies-   
Just chock-full of powerful-   
Cleaning supplies. 

Hot dog! All his needs-   
Neatly shelved in this stall.   
The Montoyas and Shemp-   
Searching out in the hall...   
Give him plenty of time-   
To concoct his vile brew.   
This closet's the last place-   
They'll look into. 

The stuff in the pail-   
Makes a bubbling soup,   
A noxious concoction-   
While outside, the group-   
Draws ever closer-   
But MacLeod's calm, blasé,   
As he strings out a cord-   
Low, across the doorway. 

Every door is kicked in,   
But still, Mac's not done-   
The finishing touch,   
And then he must run.   
He hangs a small sack-   
Full of some viscous goo,   
Directly above-   
The simmering brew. 

Done! Just in time!   
Shemp's at his door quick.   
Mac turns the lock,   
So Shemp feels it click   
Shemp flicks the Montoyas-   
A look that means, 'No.'   
These a-holes believe him?   
But...away they both go. 

'Where are you, boy?'   
Shemp's quiet at the door.   
This prize is all his,   
And, he's anxious to score.   
From inside he hears-   
A clatter, when Mac-   
Throws the lid of a paint can,   
To encourage attack. 

Mac lifted a floor tile,   
And scuttled below,   
Shemp kicks in the door.   
Where did his prey go?   
He steps on the tripcord,   
Then his motion ceases-   
As the sack hits the pail-   
And, he's blasted to pieces! 

The Command Center 

'This is _great,_ man!   
It blows me away!   
Dice loves 'fake' explosions-   
They sure make his day.   
'You lost him _again?_ '   
(Marek's feeling the strain)   
'Yeah, the hillbilly's down,   
Only Spaniards remain.' 

'More than enough, Dice.'   
Dice checking screen,   
'The best simulation-   
That I've ever seen!'   
He wheels back and forth,   
With delight, he is wowed.   
But, his boss wants to know-   
'Where is MacLeod?' 

'There is temperature variance...   
Oh, this is so great!   
He's in the AC!'   
Marek doesn't dare wait,   
He informs the Montoyas,   
What it is, he wants done,   
'He's in the air ducts!'   
Then 'Run, rabbit, run.' 

Level G7 

Next door to Margo-   
A loud crashing noise,   
Mac's dropped through the ceiling-   
With athletic poise.   
When the guard comes to look,   
MacLeod finds a handy-   
Toy helicopter-   
To distract him. How dandy! 

Mac shoves a bookcase-   
On top of the guard,   
But, he won't stay down-   
Forcing Mac to work hard.   
And the broomstick he brought-   
From above, (just in case),   
Is perfect for jabbing-   
The guard in the face. 

Bingo! Mac rescues-   
Fair Margo, the prize!   
While Dice and boss Marek,   
See all through the eyes-   
Of cameras on screens-   
At which they both peer.   
Mac pulls off her gag,   
'Duncan!' Thank G-d you're here!' 

'Are you all right?'   
(In a rush to untie her)   
Anxious from Marek's-   
Clutches to pry her.   
She sees his dried blood-   
On that once pristine shirt-   
Now sullied by grime,   
With concern, 'Are you hurt?' 

'I'm fine.' He assures her.   
'Let's get out of here.'   
His prime concern now-   
Is to get Margo clear.   
Marek kidnapped her-   
To get back at him.   
Best not wait around-   
For Marek's next whim. 

Outside the Building 

A cop on patrol,   
Walking his beat,   
Checking all doors-   
That front on the street.   
The door to this building,   
Keram Enterprises-   
Should not be open,   
The astute cop surmises. 

Lobby 

He's entered the building-   
And immediately seen-   
By one of the cameras-   
Then on Dice's screen.   
'Isn't this a bit late...'   
Marek hears Dice exclaim,   
'To insert a new character-   
Into the game?' 

Marek knows that he didn't-   
Invite the cop there.   
Dice thinks it's funny,   
But, he's unaware-   
That the officer's _real._   
Now Marek sees red.   
'Next time that door's open,   
I'll have your _head!_ ' 

There's no time to waste.   
Marek walks toward the cop,   
Raises his pistol...   
Between his eyes-Pop!   
With a look of stark terror-   
Dice watches him fall,   
That cop Marek murdered-   
Wasn't virtual, at all. 

The Command Center 

Dice is now shaking,   
Quivering with fright   
'That cop...he was _real,_   
And, you aced him.... _right?_   
You're a nut bar.' Says Dice.   
'I'm _so_ outta here!'   
But, Marek will shoot him-   
If he leaves, that is clear. 

Hallway 

Mac and Margo are searching-   
For a place they can be-   
Safe for a while,   
Mac tells her, 'It's _me_ \-   
Not _you,_ that he wants.'   
'How did you offend him?'   
'A long time ago-   
I tried to befriend him.' 

Flashback, Scotland, 1634 

Marek could do-   
With a dose of humility.   
Along with improvement-   
In swordwork ability.   
But a 'Highlander savage,'   
The likes of MacLeod-   
In not fit to judge-   
One so nobly endowed. 

'When an Immortal-   
Comes for your head,   
He'll not be impressed-   
That you are well bred,   
Or with your fancy-   
High-falutin' swordwork.'   
'My retainers will fight,'   
Says Marek, with a smirk. 

Mac says, 'There are rules.'   
Marek vows, 'Not for me...   
With my inheritance-   
Very wealthy, I'll be.   
I'll build defenses-   
No Immortal can thwart.   
Except one of two-   
I might keep for sport.' 

Marek describes-   
How he has a yen-   
For a prey, he can kill-   
Again and again!   
MacLeod, in disgust-   
'Get it through your thick head,   
No inheritance, no dukedom.   
To the world...you are _dead!_ ' 

'You'll have to leave-   
This life, and start over.'   
'Impossible!' steams Marek,   
'That I'll not go for,   
That wretch that stuck me-   
Only _he_ knows I'm dead...'   
'Aye,' says MacLeod,   
'And that word, he'll spread.' 

Losing his dukedom?   
The very thought bugs him.   
Mac offers him water,   
In response, Marek slugs him!   
MacLeod's sprawled in pain-   
In a ditch, black and blue.   
Marek: 'I'd take your head-   
But I've business to do.' 

Later 

Marek caught and dispatched-   
That man he once chased.   
His secret's now safe-   
And he stands there, smug-faced.   
A tingle...then Mac-   
Jumps straight in his path.   
For his crime, he will face-   
The Highlander's wrath. 

They engage and right quick-   
Mac slices his gut,   
In another few moments,   
Marek's neck will be cut.   
But his loyal 'retainers'-   
Who heard the noise flaring-   
Arrive to discover-   
He's dead as a herring. 

Mac cannot deliver-   
That swift coup de grâce,   
Marek's men, now alerted-   
Surround him, en masse.   
Mac fights his way out,   
Very soon, he has fled-   
But to everyone else.   
Lord Marek's now dead. 

The Command Center 

Dice watches MacLeod-   
With a feeling of awe,   
So far his reactions-   
Have been without flaw,   
Together with Margo-   
Skill levels they climb,   
'He's faster than Yahoo!   
Be here in no time!' 

A Room and a Hallway 

They've ducked in this room-   
Where no cameras lurk.   
Naïve little Margo-   
Tries the phone. It won't work.   
MacLeod tells her, 'Marek-   
Controls the whole show,   
Phones, elevators, security...'   
'He's insane.' ' Yes, I know.' 

While they converse-   
MacLeod is destroying-   
Most of the lamps-   
With their wires, he's toying.   
He: 'I've an idea.'   
Calmly, not to upset her.   
She: 'Ideas are good,   
But guns are much better.' 

In the hall-the Montoyas,   
Guns set to strafe.   
Mac tells her, 'Get up-   
On the desk, till it's safe.'   
'I _like_ safe,' she says.   
Then over a stand-   
He drapes a black cloth,   
Puts the wires in her hand. 

'Pull these apart,   
While you are waiting.'   
'Okay, why not?'   
Not up for debating,   
She knows in her heart,   
If anyone can-   
Keep her alive-   
MacLeod is that man. 

The brothers Montoya-   
Are nearing the door.   
Reminding each other-   
What they are there for.   
'The American and Frenchman-   
Were not good enough,   
Not brothers like us,   
We have the right stuff.' 

'He took those two out-   
So easy, no fuss,   
But that million dollars-   
Was meant just for us.'   
The brothers Montoya-   
Think alike, of one mind.   
Unfortunately, it's-   
The limited kind. 

The cloth on the hat stand,   
Mac's invention, though crude-   
Looks like a man's shadow-   
Through frosted glass viewed.   
The brothers Montoya-   
Rush to the door.   
Brother One pays no mind-   
To the puddle on the floor. 

'Watch out! The water!'   
Brother Two cautions him.   
'What's the matter, hermano?   
Can you not swim?'   
Brother One grips the doorknob-   
Circuit completed!   
He scorches, deep-fried,   
Shockingly superheated! 

'¡Tu eres muerto!'   
Shrieks brother One.   
His frame fills the doorway,   
Each hand holds a gun.   
He rips up the door-   
With a barrage titanic,   
Then riddles the walls!   
He is one pissed Hispanic! 

An overturned table-   
Effectively shields-   
Margo from sight.   
But, Montoya wields-   
Those big guns around-   
In her vague direction.   
Mac leaps from behind,   
Gives his neck a resection. 

When she sees MacLeod snap-   
That neck, with no strain,   
Margo decides-   
With Mac she'll remain.   
'You'll be safer here.'   
Mac begs her to wait,   
She replies, 'This has been-   
One hell of a date.' 

Then comes a moment-   
For Duncan, so sweet.   
Her faith and her trust-   
In him is compete.   
'You're precious to me,'   
She says with a smile,   
No beauty has told him-   
That, in a while. 

With a smile and a kiss,   
(He's thinking ahead),   
When Marek's disposed of,   
She'll warm his cold bed.   
'Lock the door, when I've gone,'   
Of this, he's insistent.   
But, there is no lock,   
And, the door's non-existent. 

The Command Center 

'This isn't good!'   
Squeals a wavering Dice,   
Mac's on his way,   
His expression like ice.   
There, on the screen-   
His virtual hero,   
Toting a sword-   
Is approaching ground zero! 

MacLeod barges in-   
To this room, so bizarre.   
Whines Dice, 'You guys have-   
Taken this way too far.'   
With hardly a glance,   
Mac knocks the nerd cold.   
Leaving just Marek,   
Strangely calm, self-controlled. 

Marek charges, 'I lost-   
Everything due to you!'   
Mac scoffs, 'You lost _nothing!_ '   
His scorn showing through.   
'My whole world,' snaps Marek,   
'Now I've got it back.   
I've built an empire!'   
He blusters to Mac. 

'Well, you labored to find me.'   
(Mac warms to his task)   
'When all that you had-   
To do, was just ask.'   
Bang! Without warning-   
Mac's shot in the back!   
The force makes him stagger,   
Crumpling him, like a sack. 

The pain of his wound-   
Extends and increases-   
With the stinging betrayal-   
That tears him to pieces.   
For he sees that the shooter-   
Is Margo, who played-   
Her part, so expertly,   
'Girls' bills must be paid.' 

Too late, Mac sees through-   
Marek's confidant air.   
He's been suckered in-   
By this bloodthirsty pair.   
Marek is smiling,   
He'll patiently wait-   
Till MacLeod passes out,   
Then he'll decapitate. 

With a last painful surge-   
Of effort, Mac lunges...   
Through the window, seven levels-   
To the lobby, he plunges.   
Again, Margo shoots-   
As he makes his escape.   
Did she think he might fly-   
With Superman's cape? 

From their high vantage point-   
Mac appears dead and broken.   
'Time to pay up!'   
Sweet Margo's outspoken.   
Marek tells her, 'The job-   
Isn't yet done.'   
Margo wonders, 'Is the body-   
Gonna get up and run?' 

'No one could survive-   
A fall from that height.'   
Marek presses her shoulder,   
'Yes, you are right.'   
He presses his gun-   
To her head, calculating,   
Not hard to imagine-   
What he's contemplating. 

Later 

Dice regains consciousness,   
Stares at his screen.   
In the lobby below-   
Is a grim, gruesome scene.   
Mac's sprawled on the floor,   
Margo lies spread,   
Draped over a chair,   
Both obviously dead. 

When Marek gets there,   
Duncan is gone!   
Dice cannot process-   
These strange goings-on.   
He walks like a zombie,   
Trying hard to delete-   
This game from his mind.   
Barely moving his feet. 

As he reaches the door,   
Mac bursts in the room!   
Anguished and bloody-   
Mac commences to fume!   
Grabbing Dice by his collar,   
Mac's warrior's eyes flame,   
Dice can but stutter...   
'Y-y-you re only a _game!_ ' 

Mac yanks on this weasel,   
Giving him a good view-   
Of the blood trickling down,   
'Real enough now for you?'   
'It's not my fault.'   
Wheedles Dice, trepidating.   
'You were supposed-   
To be simulating.' 

'Marek's gone postal,   
He's mad as can be...'   
Dice pleads with MacLeod,   
'You've _gotta_ help me.   
Now that I know-   
That you are real,   
Anything that you need,   
I'm ready to deal.' 

'All right.' Mac agrees,   
'Help me, I'll help you.'   
Dice doesn't notice-   
After all Mac's been through-   
He seems well recovered,   
But oh! That poor shirt!   
Blood front and back,   
Yucky grease, grime, and dirt. 

Marek's determined-   
To accomplish his goal.   
He's depending on Dice,   
(His ace in the hole).   
Into the elevator,   
Back up he'll go,   
MacLeod must be taught-   
This still is _his_ show. 

'Welcome back, Marek,'   
The speaker blares loud.   
'DICE!' 'No, no Dice'   
(Good pun, MacLeod),   
'You wanted to play-   
_My_ game, this time.   
_My_ rules!' Dice, on cue-   
Makes the lift climb. 

Mac bids Dice good-bye,   
He safely can go.   
What now will transpire-   
He'll not need to know.   
Marek enters. 'I'm here.'   
Mac: 'As it should be...'   
Glaring at Marek,   
'Just you and me.' 

They quickly cross swords,   
Past quarrels fueling-   
Their anger, as they-   
Engage in their dueling.   
But the 'Highlander savage'-   
Shows superior mettle-   
Disarming 'his lordship.'   
There's an old score to settle. 

Mac has fought many-   
Madmen and fools.   
Marek is both,   
But he knows the rules.   
Now swordless, he's worried-   
And, a wee bit alarmed.   
'You wouldn't behead-   
A man who's unarmed?' 

'And I told Dice-   
What a hero, you were...   
Are we so different?'   
Asks this murderer.   
Mac says, 'Pick it up.'   
Marek grins, 'A mistake-   
That if I were in your place-   
I wouldn't make.' 

'That is the difference-   
Between you and me.'   
Mac's had enough,   
He resumes skillfully,   
In a moment, 'Game over!'   
As Dice would have said,   
One masterful swipe-   
Cuts off Marek's head. 

The Quickening explodes-   
Raw power, now loosed.   
Mac's face, in its throes-   
Many times reproduced-   
On the monitor screens-   
Many Duncans are shown-   
But, when it is done-   
Only he, stands alone. 

Mac had no choice-   
But to take Marek's head.   
Signaling a return-   
To the life he has led.   
Since he killed Rich-   
He has not been the same.   
Now, sorrowfully-   
He must rejoin The Game. 

Later, Outside the Keram Building 

Mac watches his date-   
Of the previous evening-   
Wheeled out on a gurney,   
Inside he is grieving.   
Wrapped in a sheet.   
That covers her charms   
On the way to the morgue-   
Instead of his arms. 

Now wearing a coat-   
To cover that shirt,   
He's standing with Dice,   
Making sure to assert-   
'You never saw me.'   
Dice answers, 'Nowhere.'   
'Not your wildest imaginings.'   
'I _never_ go there.' 

Peace, Emit   
© 2002 

**_Under the Kilt_ from Highlander: The Official Site: **

Don Paonessa, Creative Consultant, Post Production   
'This was fun to do Post Production wise because it dealt with all the audiovisual stuff, the monitors, etc.' 

**Ken Gord, Producer**   
'This was one of the shows that was supposed to be easy because it was one location, which ended up being incredibly difficult because it was wall-to-wall action in one location. And the guy who played Benoit, I found in Paris. I was walking by Notre Dame and saw him roller-skating to ballet with a costume that looked like 'Road Warrior' and he's carrying a hockey stick and he's actually pretty good. He looked like a total street freak. So I had my wife go up to him because she speaks better French than me, and say, 'I want you to be a bad guy on Highlander', and he said, 'Sure,' and gave me his card, which said something like, 'Adoration of God, GZU.' I like to keep it interesting, mix it up a bit.' 

~ Unusual Suspects   
  
---


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